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The air was changing. The crisp air of autumn was seeping out of the forest, slowly replaced by the dry brisk air of winter. Arthur could even feel his own energy waning, as though he too was slipping into hibernation along with the wild. Time was running out, counting down hours until the other court took their place.
He leaned back against the tree, savoring in the cool feel of bark beneath his skin. The dry branches scratched against his skin, but they did not harm him. Nature recognized him and would not harm him. Arthur needed to do something before everything gave way to winter, before the shift in power.
Arthur furrowed his brows. There had been an insistent hissing noise that had been slowly growing louder and more frequent over the past minute. He slipped one eye open a sliver and promptly slipped out of his tree.
Eames let out a bark of warning, surging forward for the split second it took for Arthur to regain his bearings and catch hold of a bough. He winced as the bark scraped across his palm, but he swung himself down with minimal effort.
The leaves crunched beneath his feet as he touched down. Brushing himself off, he straightened to look at Eames. For someone who’s power must have been its lowest, he looked remarkably put together, if not still a little scruffy. His cheeks were a little sallower than they had been at the summer solstice, but that was to be expected. Arthur was sure he would have looked the same had it been the peak of spring.
“Eames. What do you need?”
Eames let out a bellowing laugh, throwing his head back and exposing the long expanse of his throat. “Is our relationship built on nothing more than an exchange of services, my dear? So cruel of you.”
Arthur crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow. “I’m sure you’ve noticed that winter is creeping up on us. Neither of us are in a position to be engaging in a power play.”
“Of course, of course,” Eames said with a boyish grin. “I merely wanted to show you something.”
“Show me?” Arthur asked. “What in the world could you show me when you don’t even have enough power to influence the mortals’ dreams?”
“So harsh, as cutting as the autumn breeze,” Eames laughed. “Alas, what I wish to show you is nothing of my own creation, I’m afraid.”
“Well then, I suppose it is time for me to stop prolonging the inevitable,” Arthur shrugged. He gestured with his hand, sweeping it out to beckon for Eames to lead. “Lead the way, if you would.”
Instead of heading into the woods like Arthur had expected, Eames reached across and cupped his hands around Arthur’s eyes. “It’s a surprise, so I can’t have you seeing what it is before I intend you to,” he whispered, breath warm as it brushed against his ear. Arthur nodded, throat tight.
Arthur didn’t know for long they walked, or how far they went. All he knew was the rough feel of Eames’s palms against his eyelids. He could feel every minute brush of his eyelashes against Eames’s skin, could feel every point where Eames pressed against him as he directed him around trees and further into the woods.
After what simultaneously felt like an eternity and a heartbeat passed, Eames’s hands pressed hard against Arthur’s face, pulling them to a stop. “We’re here,” Eames said, voice so close to Arthur’s ears. The warm breath was a sharp contrast to the breeze dancing around them. He lifted his hands, and the world came back to Arthur gradually, in sporadic bursts of color and light.
His jaw slackened as he took in his surroundings. The woods were covered in a pure white blanket of snow with nary a footprint, be it faerie, mortal, or animal. The tree branches each cradled bundles of snow, and the bushes and forest floor were all nigh invisible.
“How could this… It’s not time for the exchange of power to take place yet,” Arthur wondered out loud. Now that he could no longer focus on Eames’s warmth, he felt the chill settle into his bones and the kiss of the snowflakes as they drifted down lazily.
“Indeed, but it always comes a little faster when we approach their territory. Then it’ll sweep across the forest until it’s everywhere. But for now, it’s contained to a few patches here and there.”
“How fascinating,” Arthur murmured, lost in taking in every detail he could. A freezing collision against the back of his head forced his eyes away from the surroundings. He spun around to see Eames in the process of laughing and reaching for more snow.
Eames was smiling and looking down at the pile of snow that he was shaping. “Oh darling, you should have seen the look on your face! I don’t think I’ve ever seen you that shocked.”
Arthur narrowed his eyes, reaching for his own pile of snow and sloppily pressing it together. He hurled it in Eames’s general direction and watched as it landed on Eames’s head, collapsing into a curtain of white.
Eames froze, mouth open in a small o. “What a way to issue a challenge,” he laughed, brushing the snow out of his hair with a rakish grin. “Very well. I accept,” he said as he flung the next snowball.
Arthur lost track of how many snowballs he threw and of how many were thrown at him. He knew that his arms were tired and that his fingers were frozen and that the Winter Court would undoubtedly be displeased with the presence of faeries from not one, but two other courts infringing on their territory, but those were issues to be concerned with at a later date. All he needed to know at the moment was that he was currently lying in the snow next to Eames and that he had had more fun in the past hour than he had had plotting another way to trick noble mortals into losing themselves in the wood.
“Well, I would like to declare this my win,” Eames gasped.
“Well then, I would like to counter that declaration,” Arthur said petulantly.
Eames let out a shocked noise, rising from the snow to glare at Arthur and spraying Arthur with loose snow in the process. “You can’t just do that!”
“Of course I can, Eames,” Arthur said, rolling his eyes. “There were no rules to begin with, so there are no rules that I need to uphold. And I say,” he added, swallowing the lump in his throat, “that the loser must bestow a kiss upon the winner.”
Eames paused, staring at Arthur with a combination of what Arthur thought to be shock and awe. Arthur averted his eyes, even if it meant pressing his nose to a pile of snow.
“Oh, you only needed to ask,” Eames finally breathed. Arthur turned just in time to catch Eames’s lips against his. It was freezing cold, but Arthur didn’t mind. If they kept kissing, even if they laid in the snow, they’d eventually warm each other up. And the Winter Court would just need to deal with it.